Measure Of A Woman
by obsessedwithstabler
Summary: She tried to pull away, but even in the depths of his exhausted and abused mind, he still clung to her. Like a small child who desperately needed comfort. A quiet sigh escaped her lips, and she settled awkwardly against the pillows.


Wow, ya'll really liked my Untethered post eps. I really appreciate the reviews, and I still have one more post ep planned after this one. Thanks for taking the time to read them, and please remember to review!

Disclaimer: Not mine!

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Alex watched in fear and concern as the ambulance pulled out of the gate, and she started the car and followed the ambulance closely.

Beside her, Ross was speaking, but she didn't hear him. All she could think about was the man in the ambulance in front of them. And how her world would never be okay again if he wasn't okay.

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She stood in the door of his hospital room, watching the easy rise and fall of his chest as he slept. Her hazel eyes followed the I.V. from his hand to the pole by his bed, and even from where she was standing, she could see the deep, dark rings that were all too evident under his eyes. Bruises encircled his wrists, and even though she couldn't see them, she knew that the same patterns covered his ankles from when those sadistic bastards had strapped him to the steel table.

She leaned against the doorframe and crossed her arms over her chest. She hadn't wanted him to go. But he had told her that he was going either way, and there was no way in hell that she was going to let him go in blind. And now she blamed herself, because she hadn't demanded that she go in with him, even though she knew that it just wouldn't have been feasible. Along with the questions it would have raised with Ross, it would have been even more dangerous. But that didn't stop the guilt that poured over her in ice cold waves every time she looked at her unconscious partner.

He could have died. He had come very close, in fact, and that was driving her insane. He was her partner. She shouldn't have let him go (not that she could've stopped him, but that fact kept rising in her head), or she should have done something sooner when he didn't call in to check with her at his normal time. She could have prevented this. Some partner she was.

He groaned softly and tossed his head to the side, and she pushed herself off of the doorframe and walked over to the bed. "It's okay, Bobby," she murmured, gently smoothing back his hair. "You're safe now." She didn't even know if he could hear her, but in a way, just being there and touching him reassured her that he was in fact still alive.

He relaxed beneath her hand, and she watched with a sad smile as his eyelids fluttered. Her hand continued to gently caress his hair. As her hand moved, she absently realized that this was the first contact they had ever really had that wasn't for show as part of an undercover assignment. They had hugged once at his mother's funeral, but it had been awkward and tense. She had always assumed that it was just that professional barrier between them that he had always refused to cross.

He stirred restlessly, and she sank down into the chair by his bed and leaned forward. For several long moments, she stared at his hand. Then she finally made her decision. With a little uncertainty, she reached her hand out and slowly slid it into his. A few more moments passed, and she laid her other hand over his, encasing his large hand between her smaller ones.

Her eyes drifted above their hands, and she moved one hand, lightly tracing over the angry red marks from the straps that had cruelly bit into his skin.

Her fingertips traced obscure patterns against his skin, and a minute or two later, she stopped and rested that hand over his again. His hand was reassuringly warm between hers, and she gently squeezed it, then returned it to the mattress. But she kept the fingers of her right hand curled protectively around his hand as her left hand gently ran along his arm, until she reached his face.

She only paused a second, long enough to take a breath and for her heart to beat twice. Then she brushed her fingertips against his stubbled cheek before resting her palm flat against his cheek. He was warm and reassuringly scruffy, something she imagined that, no matter how much the nurses shaved him, wouldn't go away completely. It was one of the many things she loved about him.

Her eyes fell on the cannula in his nose, helping him to breathe easier, and her hand moved away from his cheek to tenderly finger the graying curls at his temple.

He didn't stir, and that unnerved her even more. She had caught him sleeping a handful of times during their partnership, and as he was when he was awake, he was perpetually moving. She brushed the back of her hand against his forehead, sighing deeply.

"He should be waking up soon, dear," a kind voice said warmly, and Alex jumped a little. A cherub faced nurse was standing on the opposite side of the bed and checking Bobby's vitals. She looked at Alex and smiled at her, then carefully checked the I.V. in Bobby's arm. Alex just watched silently as she wrote something on a clipboard. "He looks like he's had a rough go of it, but he's tough. He just needs you to be patient with him for a little while longer."

Alex quirked one eyebrow in surprise, wondering silently how someone who had never met them could be so right. She finally said, "I always am."

The nurse smiled and nodded approvingly, then left them alone.

She continued to study her partner's sleeping face, until her eyelids began to droop, and she yawned deeply. The first night he was gone, she had slept badly. The second night, she had gotten no sleep. And since she and Ross had driven to the prison and gotten him out of there, she had been running on pure adrenaline. Now it was finally catching up with her, and every instinct in her told her she wasn't going to leave that chair.

So she did the only logical thing in her mind. She pulled the chair as close to the bed as she could, rested her arms on the mattress and her head on her arms, then laid her hand on Bobby's arm and closed her eyes.

_Just for a few minutes,_ she told herself as she yawned again and squirmed in the chair. _Just a few_...

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Bobby groaned as a dull ache in his wrists and ankles bit through his sleep, and the soft mattress below his exhausted body told him that he was back in the cell. He lifted his left hand to his head and rubbed his temple, then slowly forced his eyes open. He was surprised almost to the point of shock when he was greeted with a white ceiling and soft light, nothing like the harsh brightness that had tormented him in "Heaven."

He shut his eyes again, then reopened them to make sure he was not dreaming. As his eyes focused, he realized that he was in a hospital room, and he drew in a ragged breath of relief. They had found him. Eames had found him. _Eames_...

Looking to his left, he was incredibly disappointed when he didn't see her there, and he shut his eyes again. Why would she be there? He was a nutcase, a whack-job. She didn't care about him. And he couldn't blame her.

He tried to move his right arm, and a surge of panic went through him when he realized that he couldn't move it. His eyes shot open as he gasped painfully and twisted his head to the right. But all feelings of fear, resentment and abandonment were swept away when he saw the blond head resting on his arm.

His throat ached, but he managed to whisper, "Eames," as he reached out and laid the palm of his left hand on her head. She didn't stir, and he carefully turned on his right side and studied her sleeping face.

Her mouth was drawn in a worried frown, and he could see the dark circles under her eyes, suggesting that she hadn't slept in some time. Her hair was messy and falling into her eyes, and he instinctively moved the hair away, tucking it tenderly behind her ear.

Sleep was closing in on him again, and he didn't have the heart to disturb her. So he shifted again, making himself more comfortable. Then he closed his eyes and drifted off, his hand still resting gently on the top of her head.

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She jolted out of her sleep with a whimper, her heart racing and beads of sweat dripping down her forehead and the back of her neck. For a moment, she couldn't remember where she was. Then she saw Bobby, sleeping on his side and facing her, and she held her hand to her mouth and forced herself to take a few deep breaths.

When she felt like she could open her mouth and not lose what little was in her stomach, she laid her hand on his arm and gently squeezed. The dream, or nightmare, rather, had been so real. She had been chained down in one corner of the room, while she was forced to watch men torture her partner to death, over and over again. Her stomach lurched again, and she bent over and rested her forehead against his arm.

She nearly jumped out of her skin when a large hand rested tentatively on her shoulder, and she jerked herself upright. A familiar pair of chocolate brown eyes were watching her intently, and she wiped at her mouth, then leaned forward. "Bobby?" she asked softly. "How do you feel?"

He ran his tongue over his lips, then said hoarsely, "Thirsty."

She immediately jumped up and went to the table by the bed, picking up a cup and a pitcher of cold water. With shaking hands, she poured the water into the cup, then sat down beside her partner again and gently handed it to him.

He still looked exhausted, but his eyes were open, and she was selfishly glad that they were.

He watched her study him, and he felt relief flood him, because she hadn't abandoned him. She was right there, and from her rumpled clothes and the bags under her eyes, she had been there for a while. He wanted to tell her to go home, but he couldn't bring himself to. So he settled back against the pillows and closed his eyes, but listened for her every breath.

His eyes slid shut, and she reached out and gently laid her hand on his chest, his heartbeat reassuringly strong beneath her palm. Keeping her hand there, she placed her elbow on the arm of the chair and rested her chin in her hand.

He stared uncertainly at her small hand, knowing that he shouldn't be allowing the contact, but not able to tell her to move her hand. Her fingers began moving slowly over his chest, making obscure patterns that he never wanted to end. Slowly, tentatively, he moved his hand and rested it uncertainly over hers, stepping over that ever present fine line in his mind.

Surprised and somewhat thrilled at the feel of his hand covering hers, Alex slowly turned her hand in his so that their palms were touching.

They remained like that for several minutes, palms touching, eyes locked.

Then he finally whispered in a soft, raspy voice, "P-promise me something, Eam- I mean, A-Alex...?"

She leaned forward in the chair, her hand tightening around his and her fingers lacing through his. "What, Bobby?" she murmured, her eyes tender.

He took a moment to gather his thoughts. "P-promise me... you won't e-ever go anywhere..." he breathed, and tears gathered in her eyes.

"Oh God, Bobby..." Without thinking about consequences or regulations, she pushed herself out of the chair and gathered him into her arms, resting her chin on the top of his head.

He was shocked, but he didn't pull away. Instead, his hands went up to her shirt, and he clutched the soft material in his fingers. Then he buried his face in her shoulder and breathed as deeply as he could.

She continued to hold him in her arms for several long minutes, trying to organize her thoughts. She felt him clutch her shirt, and she pulled him closer and rocked him a little. "Bobby," she finally started in a voice that threatened to break. "Bobby, I'm not going anywhere. I didn't leave you then, and there's no way I'm leaving you now." Her back began to ache, but there was no way in hell she was about to let him go. So she lifted her leg up onto the bed beside him, then turned her head so her cheek rested against his curls.

He snaked his arms around her waist and drew her closer, suddenly unable to be close enough to her. His eyelids drooped to his aggravation, and he whispered, "I'm t-tired, Alex."

She nodded understandingly. "Then go to sleep." He still held tight to her, and she ran her hand along his shoulder. "I won't go anywhere. But you should get some more sleep. Please..."

He still stubbornly held onto her, even as his entire body sagged and the haze of sleep began to creep over his mind. Three words played over and over in his mind as he gradually gave in. "I... l-love you, E-Eames..." Then he finally lost his fight and slept.

In the silence of the room, Alex stared blindly at the wall as she cradled the sleeping man in her arms. He loved her... It had to have been the drugs and the exhaustion. Or maybe he meant it, but only in a platonic way.

She tried to pull away, but even in the depths of his exhausted and abused mind, he still clung to her. Like a small child who desperately needed comfort. A quiet sigh escaped her lips, and she settled awkwardly against the pillows.

Bobby whimpered softly in his sleep and pushed himself further against Alex, not that it bothered her. Okay, so it did bother her. But in a good way. She covered the back of his neck with her hand, then slid her other arm around him and drew him into her warm embrace.

His entire body finally relaxed completely, and she watched in amusement as a content smile came over his features.

His blanket had fallen off of his shoulders, so she reached behind him and gently tucked it around him again.

The moonlight cascaded into the room, and with only a twinge of hesitation, she pressed her lips against his forehead in a feather light kiss.

He stirred and muttered in his sleep, then pressed his face further against her neck.

She chuckled softly. There was the man she knew. "I love you too, Bobby." And she meant it, even if it meant disregarding everything else. Because to her, he was everything. Damn the consequences, and damn everything else. He needed her. She needed him. They cared about each other, and she would always be there for him. That was all she really needed to know.

Sleep loomed over her, and knowing that he was safe and content for now, she was able to relax for the first time in almost a week. His arm slid over her waist, and she was surprised when he drew her closer in his exhaustion induced sleep. There was a possibility of Ross walking in, but right now, she didn't care. The rest of the world could just disappear, and she wouldn't even notice. As long as he was right there.

And she couldn't explain it, nor did she care to. But she just knew he always would be.

The End

A/N: Well, I really hope ya'll enjoyed these. And who else was totally freaked out by the RossRodgers practically being shoved down our throats? Eww... Well, thanks again for reading, and be on the lookout for my next postep. (big grin) I think ya'll will really enjoy this next one, too. Happy reading, everyone!


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